


Tease

by LydiaStJames



Series: Reunions [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Instigator Adam, M/M, as usual, confused Ronan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaStJames/pseuds/LydiaStJames
Summary: When Adam asked for Ronan’s number, it was with the knowledge that he had given into his irresponsible and relentless attraction for Ronan. He wasn’t happy about it, of course. Adam liked to think of himself as intelligent, and it irked him, more than he liked to admit, that he was giving into Ronan’s whims like some lovesick teenager. Falling for playboys was something you did when you were young and dumb and didn’t know better; it wasn’t for a 28-year-old professional who had been in enough successful relationships to know better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series! I would recommend reading parts one and two first, otherwise you might not understand what a big loser Adam is in this.

Adam Parrish had a date scheduled with Ronan Lynch. Not a hookup, not a coincidental run-in that happened to lead to kissing, but an official date. Where they planned to get dinner, where they might chat about their past relationships or the economy or what movies they liked or whatever normal things Ronan talked about on dates, and then follow it with a movie.

 

It was all very traditional. _Too_ traditional, if you asked Adam. It wasn’t really his decision, though, because Ronan was the one controlling this whole thing.

 

When Adam asked for Ronan’s number, it was with the knowledge that he had given into his irresponsible and relentless attraction for Ronan. He wasn’t happy about it, of course. Adam liked to think of himself as intelligent, and it irked him, more than he liked to admit, that he was giving into Ronan’s whims like some lovesick teenager. Falling for playboys was something you did when you were young and dumb and didn’t know better; it wasn’t for a 28-year-old professional who had been in enough successful relationships to know better.

 

And yet, Adam gave Ronan his phone number. Voluntarily. Because he was tired of pretending like he didn’t _want_ Ronan, tired of pretending like it wasn’t _really fucking good_ when they got together.

 

He tried to justify it in his head. Adam had spent his entire life being responsible. Aside from those brief flings with Ronan, Adam spent all of high school either working or studying. He didn’t get the opportunity to have any fun. Even in college, Adam chose his partners with careful consideration.

 

_Who wouldn’t be too much of a distraction?_ He needed to keep his scholarship, which meant his grades had to be immaculate. His priority _had_ to be school, not a relationship. _Who wouldn’t care that he never talked about his family, that he never wanted to get too personal?_ He was never going to take someone home to meet his family, and he didn’t want to explain why. _Who wouldn’t care that he was going to leave in a few years, to attend a new school?_ His academic career had taken him to three different universities, in three different states, and he _liked_ that. Adam didn’t like to stay in the same spot for too long.

 

So, okay, maybe it was a terrible idea to be with a serial dater, but at least Adam knew what he was going into.

 

Which was why it was so weird when Ronan insisted they go on a _date._ Adam had texted him with a simple, _Do you have plans for Friday night yet?_ and Ronan said he was free. Except he didn’t seem to notice the _night_ caveat in Adam’s request, and suggested they get dinner. And said he wanted to see a movie, too.

 

_We really don’t have to do that,_ Adam had said. _I’m fine with just...you know._

 

(He really didn’t have it in him to admit he could be Ronan’s booty call. There was no sophisticated way to say it.)

 

And then Ronan had said, _Parrish, let me take you out, okay?_ and so Adam gave in. Maybe this was part of his schtick. Maybe Ronan was so used to having to wine and dine his dates, he didn’t realize Adam was fine without it. (Or, Adam thought with a snort, maybe he was finally the one to _change_ Ronan. He just needed a small-town boy with Southern charm to make him consider settling down.)

 

So as he went to meet Ronan for dinner, expecting he’d go through the motions, knowing it was all rather unnecessary. He didn’t expect anything from Ronan that he hadn’t been given before.

 

Ronan had agreed to come up to DC, insisting he could meet Adam at his apartment before they went to the restaurant. Adam was somehow unsurprised when Ronan texted him, fifteen minutes before he was meant to be there, _Running late sorry. Work._

 

“All part of the plan, I bet,” Adam muttered.

 

Ronan had the decency to look embarrassed when he showed up, at least. When Adam threw open his door, expression bored, Ronan hovered in the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched. “Hey.”

 

“Hope you didn’t make a reservation.”

 

Ronan flinched. “I probably deserve that.”

 

“It’s--” Adam paused. Was it fine? He expected something like this, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t annoyed. “Let’s just get some food.”

 

The restaurant was within walking distance, a fact that normally Adam didn’t mind. There were few perks that made it worth paying his outrageous rent, but being close to the nightlife helped. Now, however, with the air between them tight, he wished they had another means of transportation. A car with a radio he could play, or a taxi with an over enthusiastic driver who didn’t know how to mind his own business.

 

“I know it’s not an excuse,” Ronan said all at once, sounding as if all the air left him. “But I specifically requested to be off work early, and then shit just happened. Literally.”

 

Adam had to bite his tongue not to say, _Literally?_ Literally _shit happened?_ No one liked the grammar police, though. “It’s fine, Lynch. We might not be able to make the movie, now.”

 

Ronan cursed under his breath. “Did you really want to see it?”

 

“Not really.” When Ronan deflated, Adam leaned over and shoved him on the shoulder, hoping it would force him to relax his posture. “Jesus, Ronan, why you so uptight tonight? You’re making me nervous.”

 

“Good, then that makes two of us.”

 

“Why would _you_ be nervous?”

 

The glare Ronan sent him would have sent a child crying to their mom. Adam didn’t understand what he did to deserve such ire, but Ronan made his annoyance more apparent by muttering, “This is my first date, asshole.”

 

Adam blinked at him. _Did he think Adam would buy that?_ Unless, God, nevermind. He probably _was_ telling the truth. Ronan Lynch didn’t go on _dates._ He probably just seduced naive men into sleeping with him, because he was hot enough that he never needed to do the wine and dine part. And now he was just rubbing it in. _Don’t forget, Parrish, I don’t have to do this. You’d sleep with me anyway._

 

Fucking Lynch.

 

(And he was right. He _would_ still sleep with him. Whatever.)

 

“Well, here’s my tip for next time,” Adam said. “Choose something more exciting than dinner and a movie.”

 

Ronan cuffed the back of his head. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

 

“Gotta’ keep you on your toes, otherwise you’ll get bored of me.”

 

Ronan snorted. “I’m not sure that’s possible. You’ve kept my attention for, what, ten years now?”

 

Adam hated himself for being thrilled by his words. It didn’t mean anything, he knew that. It was just Ronan being Ronan, suave and perfect and exactly what Adam might want if he didn’t know better. Because people like that weren’t real. You couldn’t have a relationship with charisma, but you could go to bed with it.

 

And apparently he _really_ wanted to go to bed with it.

 

“This is it, right?” Ronan had paused in front of a restaurant and nodded. Then, with a quick jerk of his hand, he reached out and pulled the door open for Adam. “There.”

 

“Nice. Look at you, trying to get those extra points.”

 

“I do what I can,” he muttered.

 

It was odd, this banter with Ronan. Adam knew he shouldn’t enjoy it, being that he was the butt of the joke. Still, it was fun. And hell, as long as he wasn’t getting strung along, did it really hurt to play the game?

 

Throughout dinner, Ronan seemed intent on keeping up the facade of the date. Adam had never been asked so many questions, nor had to give so many answers. He was torn between hating it - because really, he’d worked really hard at keeping Ronan at arm’s length all this time - and loving it - because who didn’t like to talk about themselves?

 

Ronan was spinning a salt shaker on its side. “So, you’re a doctor…?”

 

“Yes.”

 

For whatever reason, Ronan grimaced. “What’s your area?”

 

“Epidemiology.”

 

Ronan blinked at him. “Which in English is…?”

 

“Uh, I study diseases. How they spread, what causes them, that sort of thing. I’m currently assisting in a study on dementia.” Adam felt a flush creep up his ears when he saw Ronan’s eyes narrow. This always happened whenever he told people about his job. “I have a phD. I _am_ a doctor.”

 

“Calm down, Parrish. I wasn’t judging. So you studied medicine for, what, eight years, only to...get a job where you _keep_ studying medicine?” Ronan’s lips spread into a toothy grin. “You never changed, man.”

 

“I’m good at studying,” Adam argued.

 

Ronan hummed under his breath as he took a sip of his drink. Some sort of whisky, one that Adam hadn’t paid attention to. As he set his drink down, Ronan muttered, “It’s a shame, though. I’m not a big fan of doctors.”

 

Adam rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, you had a bad experience in a hospital one time? Doctor screwed up your diagnosis?”  


“Nah.” Ronan leaned back in his chair, hooking his fingers together to place behind his head. “They’re just usually stuck-up dicks. Always waltzing in, pretending like they know your patients better than you, even though they barely see them.”

 

_“Your_ patients?” Adam leaned on the table with his elbows, eyeing Ronan suspiciously. “What do you do, exactly?”

 

Ronan arched his eyebrow toward the ceiling. “You don’t know? I thought you did.”

 

“How would I know? The last few times we’ve seen each other, we just--” Adam had some choice words to describe the nature of their relationship, but the waiter was coming back with their food. As she dropped it off, Adam cleared his throat. “Well, we haven’t had much opportunity to _talk._ ”

 

“Well, you keep up with Gansey a bit. I assumed he would have mentioned it, since he thinks it’s so fucking funny.”

 

“He’s keeping your secrets safe, apparently.” Adam wanted to dig into his food, but he was painfully aware that Ronan was still avoiding the conversation. “Guess I’ll have to find out the old-fashioned way.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“You’ll actually have to talk about yourself for a bit.”

 

Ronan didn’t seem to like that idea. He grabbed Adam’s fork from across the table, stabbed it into his plate of pasta, and held the fork of food to him. “Eat your Goddamn food, Parrish. I can hear your stomach from over here.”

 

He was not a fan of this and he let Ronan know it. Ronan shrugged, took the forkful of food into his own mouth and, after shoving it into the corner of his cheek, muttered, “It’s good, Parrish. You’re missing out.”

 

Adam stole Ronan’s fork instead. “We’re coming back to the job thing, Lynch. I swear.”

 

Adam weaseled a few personal questions out of Ronan. He got him to talk about the farm, which apparently took up the first three hours of Ronan’s mornings, and his younger brother Matthew, who was a kindergarten teacher and had an arsenal of hilarious stories which he passed along to Ronan. (Who then passed along the stories to Adam.) Time passed easily, chatting like that, and it wasn’t until the end of the meal that Adam remembered he wanted to fuck Ronan.

 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was a little dangerous, really. That was the whole point of this date, the whole point of this _thing_ they had.

 

_Don’t think of him like a person,_ Adam reminded himself. _He doesn’t think that way about you. It’s just a conquest._

 

Yet, Ronan paid for the meal. Adam didn’t even have the chance to offer; the waiter had asked if they wanted anything else, Adam had said no, and then suddenly the waiter had Ronan’s card and she was walking away. Perhaps Ronan sensed the fight coming, because he said, “I’m a senior caregiver.”

 

“A what?”

 

“I take care of old people.”

 

Adam tried to wrap his brain around this image. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. _You--”_

 

“Yes.”

 

“--take care of the elderly--”

 

“Right.”

 

“--like, you give them sponge baths and keep track of their medicine--”

 

“Is that all you think caregivers do? I’m a little offended--”

 

“Bullshit.” Adam leaned back in his seat, surveying Ronan with narrow eyes. “I call bluff on that. No way.”

 

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Ronan asked.

 

“Because you’re -- “ Adam gestured at Ronan in a manner he hoped conveyed, _Shaved head. Leather. Tattoos. Playboy. BMW. Pissy._ “I just can’t see you sitting down with a little granny, talking about her grandkids and the weather and how to make the best strawberry shortcake.”

 

“Her name is Abigail, and she’s a terrible cook. I wouldn’t touch anything she bakes.”

 

Adam shook his head in disbelief as he pulled on his jacket. Yeah right. _Yeah right._ Ronan Lynch, a caregiver. Adam was a little offended, honestly. Did Ronan really expect him to believe that lie? It was so clearly the perfect story to seduce someone into your pants. _Oh, look at me, I’m kind and sweet and work in an underappreciated job for little pay. Aren’t I the greatest?_ Pfft.

 

“You’re trying too hard, man,” Adam said. “You don’t need to do this. You already have your hook in me, I’m easy prey.”

 

Ronan was looking at him oddly. His stare was excruciating, and Adam was starting to become increasingly aware of the people milling around the restaurant. The longer Ronan stared, though, the more Adam’s skin pricked. _Why was he looking at him like that?_

 

“We officially missed the movie,” Adam blurted. “So let’s just watch something at my place. Since you were so keen on it.”

 

Ronan placed his hand on Adam’s lower back and directed him out of the restaurant. In Adam’s ear, he whispered, “You sure that’s a good idea, Parrish?”

 

Once on the street, Adam frowned. “Wait, was this your plan all along? Show up late, _accidentally,_ which forces us to miss the movie, and oh, look, we conveniently have to go to my apartment.”

 

“Jesus, Parrish,” Ronan barked out a laugh. “ _You_ were the one to invite me in. Do you hear yourself sometimes?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Nevermind. I forgot that this is your thing, that’s all.”

 

Ronan never elaborated on what he meant, much to Adam’s annoyance. Still, that didn’t stop him from pulling Ronan upstairs to his apartment. It wasn’t big - he could afford something a little nicer, true, but there was no point when you lived alone - but he had a small couch and a tv. Ronan’s long legs tumbled off the couch and onto the floor, but he somehow managed to still look comfortable. After Adam started the movie, he took a seat next to Ronan, hooking his legs up on the cushion.

 

“What are we watching?”  


“Does it really matter?” Adam asked.

 

Ronan blinked at him. “Yes. I was looking forward to that movie, man. You can’t just put in some random, shitty movie and call it a replacement.”

 

Adam leaned his head back on the couch and groaned. “Ronan, I only own like, five movies. Who cares? You know we won’t be watching it for very long.”

 

“We won’t?”

 

_Why_ Ronan seemed so intent on keeping up this ruse, Adam wasn’t sure. It was starting to get a little old, though. He didn’t appreciate being treated like an idiot, and God dammit, he really wanted to get the show on the road.

 

Ronan kept the charade going, though. He seemed actually interested in the movie, even commenting that it wasn’t a bad choice when the credits rolled, and kept his eyes firmly planted on the screen. About ten minutes in, Ronan _did_ throw his arm up on the edge of the couch, and his fingers tugged lightly at the edge of Adam’s collar.

 

Still, he did nothing.

 

_The hell?_

 

Adam waited another five minutes, at least, before he snuck a look at Ronan. His fingers had trailed from his shirt to the back of Adam’s neck, now, to occasionally brush the tips of Adam’s hair, and he was feeling a little miserable. (Well, maybe miserable wasn’t the right word. How _did_ one describe the feeling of being teased? It’s good, _really fucking good sometimes,_ but you couldn’t say it wasn’t excruciating either.)

 

Finally, Adam turned to Ronan. “Seriously?”

 

He sighed. “What, Parrish?”

 

Adam was too irritated to play this game. “Fine. I’ll just do it.”

 

The couch was too small to justify straddling Ronan, but Adam did it anyhow. He had one leg hooked around Ronan’s side before the other could even register what was happening; Ronan eyes were still fluttering in confusion when Adam tilted his chin up with his finger.

 

“This is how it it’s going to be?” Ronan said, voice hitching.

 

Adam didn’t respond with words. He had been thinking about kissing Ronan since - well, since the last time Ronan had his hands on him, back in the shower of the seedy hotel - and he didn’t have the patience to wait any longer. It was easy, kissing Ronan. He allowed Adam to do whatever he wanted, usually. Adam wanted it a little rough this time, less exploring, more biting, and Ronan seemed happy to agree.

 

“See?” Adam said in-between kisses. He pulled Ronan’s earlobe between his teeth, hoping Ronan liked the feel of breath on his ear as much as Adam usually did. “We were never going to watch a movie.”

 

Ronan’s hands were at his waist, thumbs pressing underneath his shirt and into his hip bones. Adam grabbed one of Ronan’s wrists and tugged it upward, until Ronan got the message and shifted both hands to cup at Adam’s waist.

 

“You do this with all your dates, Parrish, or just me?” Ronan breathed. Adam took pleasure in the fact that he could turn Ronan so easily into a mess, just by sucking at his neck.

 

“Just you. Don’t you feel special?”

 

Ronan laughed. “Sure. I hope the feeling is--” he paused to curse, a reaction to Adam licking his neck. “--mutual, _fuck._ ”

 

Adam pulled away from him to shrug. “It’s fine.”

 

“Fine?” Ronan narrowed his eyes, and suddenly his grip on Adam’s waist released. “Parrish, I’m telling you. It’s only you.”

 

Adam didn’t like being teased, so he returned it in the only way he knew how. Adam spread his legs as wide as he could, pushing his groin against Ronan’s erection, and took advantage of Ronan's shuddered breath to stick his thumb into his mouth. Ronan had to take a few seconds to recover, but soon he groaned against Adam’s thumb, running his tongue around it.

 

“You can’t do that,” Ronan said, once Adam pulled his thumb out.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I wasn’t going to do this tonight.”

 

“What?” Adam grinded against Ronan again. “This?”

 

_“Fuck._ Yes. _That.”_

 

Adam did it once more, enjoying the way Ronan whined. “Why not?”

 

“I don’t put out on first dates,” Ronan said. “At least, I don’t think I do.”

 

“But we’ve done this so many times,” Adam countered. This time he shoved his body into Ronan for his own sake. He was starting to feel unbearably hard in his jeans; for him, teasing was, unfortunately, a two-way street. He couldn’t tease Ronan without teasing himself.

 

Ronan’s eyes fell shut at the movement. “We haven’t done _this_ before. A date.”

 

“It’s _fine_ , Ronan--”

 

Suddenly, Ronan tugged Adam upward by his hips, pulling him off Ronan and back to the cushion of the couch. He liked the sudden change; Adam’s mind could instantly think of where this was leading - being shoved into the cushions of the couch and kissed senseless, or maybe Ronan would slip down to his knees in front of him - but Adam did _not_ expect Ronan to stand up from the couch.

 

“I should go,” Ronan said. “This was nice.”

 

“But--” Adam reached out and tugged at the belt loop on Ronan’s jeans, before he let his fingers trail the obvious bulge in his pants. “What about this?”

 

“Next time. I need to get back. Gotta’ be up early, to find the chickens and shit.” Ronan leaned down to kiss Adam. “I’ll text you.”

 

Then, Ronan practically booked it out of the apartment. He left Adam there, sprawled out on the couch, absolutely perplexed.

 

_“What the hell?”_

 

* * *

 

First, Adam was just annoyed. He didn’t understand the game Ronan was playing - because who does that? Just ups and leaves when things are just starting to get good? - and he told himself he wouldn’t have to. That was it. Ronan wanted to mess with him, clearly, and Adam just wasn’t going to do it.

 

Then, as Adam lay in bed at night, unable to sleep even after he got himself off, his thoughts turned to worry. Who, indeed, gets up and leaves when things are just starting to get good? _People who don’t really think it’s all that good_. Was that it? Was Ronan just not into him anymore? It was, what, the third or fourth time they’d gotten together. Maybe that’s all Ronan could take before he grew bored.

 

But no. Ronan _seemed_ to be enjoying himself.

 

Thankfully, the next day Adam got a text from Ronan. _Are you free next Saturday?_

 

Okay. Ronan wouldn’t ask him out _again_ if he really thought it was bad, right? Right. Clearly he was still interested in Adam, but he had to run off for some unknown reason. Maybe dinner wasn’t sitting well on his stomach or --

 

Or maybe Ronan really _didn’t_ do this much. What had he said that time in the hotel? Adam couldn’t remember exactly, but he knew he nearly laughed out loud when Ronan implied he wasn’t a playboy. Because, _seriously_ , there was no way that Ronan Lynch could kiss so well, or know exactly what to do with his tongue or his fingers, without years and years of experience. Adam could remember his first kiss - sloppy, too much tongue - and he _definitely_ remembered his first time - _also sloppy, still too much tongue, but now with the added layer of fucking everything up -_ and it took months of practice before his then-girlfriend started to enjoy sex.

 

So, no, no fucking way. Whatever Ronan was doing - whether it was an elaborate joke, or if he was trying to trick Adam into begging for it - Adam wasn’t a fan.

 

So then he back to being annoyed.

 

And even more annoying, he _was_ very close to begging for it.

 

They went on more dates together, none of which ended the way Adam wanted, because Ronan was _insistent_ that they never go back to Adam’s apartment. Each time, Ronan would make the long drive up to DC - they’d either get dinner or see a movie or go to a museum - and then Ronan would walk him back to his apartment, kiss him goodnight, and go back to the barn.

 

Adam was starting to get desperate. Once, when they went to see a movie, the theater was deserted and he got it in his head to get Ronan off. It was insane and risky, but Adam was starting to think this was what Ronan wanted. Like he had some sort of kink for seducing the poor, Southern boy from his high school, wanted to corrupt him slowly.

 

Ronan was fine to make out. He made a fuss of it at first (“Seriously, Parrish, I actually want to see this movie-- okay, five minutes.”) but then, as soon as Adam let his hand trail down Ronan’s side, the boy turned in his seat and laughed.

 

He _laughed._

 

“Jesus, Parrish,” Ronan pulled out his wallet and slid a twenty into Adam’s hand. “Go get some popcorn or something, to distract you.”

 

Adam was confused. He was SO confused. And he really, _really_ wanted Ronan. It had been months, now, since the high school reunion. Months since he’d been touched by anything besides his own hand. And, granted, this was not unusual. He spent most of his life alone, he didn’t _need_ to be constantly stimulated, but Ronan was _right there._ It was wasteful, really.

 

So Adam devised a plan. If Ronan wouldn’t come up to his apartment, then Adam was going to go to _him._ He knew where Ronan lived - he’d shown him the barns on one of their first dates - and he knew that Ronan didn’t bother to keep the placed locked up. He was just going to drive over there, surprise Ronan, and end this stupid game already.

 

Work usually ended around five for Ronan, and he’d told Adam he didn’t have any plans. It was easy enough to sneak into Ronan’s place, to wait in his kitchen like a creepy stalker, and plan what he was going to say to Ronan.

 

Except Ronan didn’t come home. It was six o’ clock when Adam finally texted him.

 

_So… Any plans tonight?_

 

Ronan didn’t respond. Adam gave it another hour - which thank God Ronan had a TV that was easy to understand, because Adam would have died of boredom without it - before Adam called Ronan.

 

Still no answer.

 

On a whim, Adam called Gansey.

 

“Adam Parrish! To what do I owe this honor?”

 

Adam paused. He didn’t really think this through. What was he supposed to say? _Hey man, do you know about the fling I’m currently trying to pursue with your best friend? No big deal, but I’m trying to surprise him at home and he’s missing. Can you be a dear and help me find him, so that I can finally get laid? ‘K thanks._

 

He settled with, “Hey, uh, this is kind of random, but do you by chance know where Ronan Lynch is tonight?”

 

Gansey did not some phased by the question at all, for whatever reason. “Oh, were you two supposed to hang out tonight?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Well, it’s only seven. He’s probably still at work.”

 

“I thought he got done at five.”

 

Gansey laughed. “Well, of course that’s when he’s _supposed_ to be off, but you know his job. There’s always something more to be done, or he’ll hang out with everyone for a couple hours just for fun. Knowing Ronan, he’ll probably there until eight or so.”

 

“Fuck.” Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have the address?”

 

Gansey did. Adam scribbled it down on a random piece of paper, then collected his things. Fine. If Ronan wasn’t going to come home, then he’d just go to _him._ It was annoying, of course, but the silver-lining would be that Adam could _finally_ see what Ronan did for a job. (He had kept up this ruse of being a caregiver, which Adam still couldn’t believe.)

 

So, needless to say, when Adam pulled up to the address Gansey gave him and read the sign - _NORTH HAVEN SENIOR LIVING -_ he was…more than a little surprised.

 

Was Ronan _actually_ a caregiver?

 

As he sat in the parking lot, Adam tried Ronan’s cellphone again. Still nothing. _Well, fine,_ Adam thought, unbuckling his seatbelt. _I’ll just ask around._

 

He’d never been in a nursing home before. It was not the nicest looking place, that was for sure. Someone had painted the walls a hideous shade of pink, and when combined with the pungent aroma of an overly sweet candle, it was all a little much. There was a middle-aged woman manning the front desk, and as soon as Adam walked in, she perked up.

 

“How can I help you? Are you here to visit someone?”

 

“Uh, sort of.” Adam was suddenly regretting his every decision. Why the fuck did he think this was a good idea again? Was he _that_ pressed for some action? Unfortunately, the woman was still staring at him, and unable to think of a way out. “I’m trying to get ahold of my, uh, friend, and I think he works here. Ronan Lynch…?”

 

The woman brightened. “Oh, Ronan! Yes! He’s here somewhere. It’s Tuesday, which means Harold has the game on. They usually watch it together. I can take you back!”

 

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll just talk to him another time--”

 

“Nonsense! Knowing Ronan, if you don’t catch him now, you never will.” The woman pulled Adam by the arm and tugged him through a hallway. “That poor boy needs a break, anyway. I’m surprised he has any friends! He’s here all the time.”

 

Adam’s head was spinning. _Seriously?_ Maybe there was a mistake. Could Ronan have stolen someone’s identity, and the real Ronan Lynch was this self-sacrificing guy who worked at a nursing home?

 

Except, no. The woman took him to a room full of senior citizens, many of which were hovered around a television. Ronan was sitting in the middle, legs kicked up on the table, wearing what looked like nursing scrubs. He was yelling something impolite at the television, which delighted an older man, and seemed to exasperate a blonde woman sitting off in the corner.

 

“Ronan!” Adam was suddenly being tugged toward the group. “You have a guest!”

 

Ronan’s smile was easy when he turned to the woman, but as soon as his gaze landed on Adam, it slipped from his face. He stumbled up from his chair, brushing down his uniform, and darted a look at the blonde woman in the corner.

 

“Hey. What are you doing here?”  


Adam was positive that every person in the room was staring at him. One woman in particular, who was sitting in the corner, had dropped her knitting needles to grin wickedly at the two. She turned to another woman next to her and - without even attempting to whisper - said, _“He’s a cutie!”_

 

“Sorry, I tried calling first,” Adam muttered. “Hi.” Then, Adam weekly lifted his hand to everyone in the room. “And, uh, hey.”

 

“Here, uh,” Ronan jerked his head to a door. “We can go talk back there.”

 

“Is that your boyfriend, Ronan?” The knitter yelled.

 

“Later, Dorris.”

 

“I’ll just get the details from your mom,” Dorris muttered, and Adam didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked to the blonde woman in the corner. Was that--

 

_Shit._

 

Ronan noticed where Adam’s eyes landed, and with a groan, he tugged Adam by the arm and pulled him out the door. He led Adam through a hall, then through another door, until they found themselves in a dark room. Ronan flipped the light on to reveal an empty bedroom.

 

“So. Hey.”

 

Adam was still feeling a little dazed, but the press of Ronan’s lips on his cheek woke him from his stupor. Ronan had started to do this lately - casually kiss him on his palm or his cheeks or the top of his head - and it was always jarring to Adam.

 

“I didn’t mean to--” Adam paused, collecting his words. “I thought they’d bring you out to see me. Sorry.”

 

Ronan shrugged. “It’s fine. They’re nosy fucks, but they were going to find out sooner or later anyway. What, uh, what brings you here, though? Did we have plans I forgot about or…?”

 

“No, I was going to surprise you.” The words felt foreign on Adam’s tongue. Why did everything suddenly seem so… _sweet?_ He hadn’t really meant it like _that._ He’d come down to surprise Ronan with sex, not for a cute little visit. And _yet,_ with Ronan kissing him on the cheek, it was hard not to find everything a bit more charming. “But you weren’t at home.”

 

“Sorry, it’s Tuesday, and that’s--”

 

“Soccer with Harold?” Adam supplied.

 

“Oh, um, yeah. I don’t have to stay, though, if you wanted to do something…?”

 

Adam wasn’t sure what to say. _Yes,_ he still wanted to do _something,_ but it felt a little wrong to pull Ronan away from his tradition just to have sex. (Or _attempt_ to have sex. Maybe Ronan still wouldn’t want to.)

 

“I’m very confused,” Adam blurted. “You -- you’re actually a caregiver?”

 

Ronan’s lips spread into a grin. “Wait, did you _still_ think I was lying? Parrish. That’s sad.”

 

“I just--” Adam licked his lips. God, he hated when Ronan smiled like that. He just looked so _happy_ and _earnest_ and god Adam wanted to kiss him, but now really wasn’t the time. “It’s just, I didn’t think -- It didn’t really match... _you.”_

 

Ronan leaned against the edge of a chair, folded his arms, and narrowed his eyes at Adam. “Who exactly do you think I _am_ , Parrish?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

Ronan gestured to himself. “Me. What am I like? No, wait -- if you had to describe me to a friend, what would you say?”

 

Adam lingered at the door. He had plenty of thoughts, but he didn’t want to offend Ronan. Somehow, he didn’t think Ronan would appreciate the descriptions he’d had running through his head all this time.

 

“You… are a farmer, and apparently a caregiver. You like fast cars, and shitty movies, and love your family.”

 

“Come on, Parrish.” Ronan grinned wickedly. “Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think. Tell me why you never want to go out with me.”

 

“I go out with you all the time--”

 

“So, we’re dating then?” Ronan asked. “If I asked you to be my boyfriend, right now, you’d be okay with it?”

 

Adam paused. “Well--”

 

“Why not? We’ve been seeing each other for a couple months now. Longer, if you count our history. You have fun with me when we go out. You’re definitely _attracted_ to me, still, because every fucking time we hang out you--”  

 

“Alright, alright!” Adam turned to the wall and leaned his forehead to it, suddenly embarrassed. “Of course I like you! You’re very easy to like, with your,” Adam gestured up and down Ronan’s body. “And you’re apparently a caregiver, which is just unfair, if you ask me.”

  
“So what’s the problem?”   


Adam groaned against the wall, feeling very embarrassed all the sudden. “Because! I know you’re not serious about me. Or, fuck, even if you _are_ , you’re probably going to get tired of me. I’m not experienced like you.”

 

Ronan was still sitting in the corner, face irritatingly blank. “How many people have you been with, Adam?”

 

“Why? You want to brag or something?”

  
  
“Indulge me.”

 

Adam sighed. It didn’t take long - he’d experimented in college, true, but he hadn’t truly _been_ with most of them. Not like that, at least. “I guess, maybe six people? Seven, counting you.”

 

Ronan nodded slowly. “Okay. So you’ve been with seven people, and you think you’re incredibly inexperienced compared to me. That’s how this is?”

 

“Yes.” Adam narrowed his eyes. “Why are you _laughing_? This isn’t funny!”

 

“It’s incredibly hilarious, when you know--” Ronan had to pause to laugh more. He was wiping away a tear from his eye when he said, “Fuck, Parrish. You don’t know anything about me, do you? God, this shouldn’t be funny, but it is.”

 

Adam was starting to think Ronan was crazy. Or just having a breakdown or something. Ronan beckoned him over with the curl of his finger, unrelenting until Adam was standing a foot in front of him. Ronan fit his palm around Adam’s side and sighed.

 

“This is partially my fault,” Ronan said, the laughter finally leaving him. He was rubbing a circle on Adam’s side. “I was just hoping it would somehow never come up. I should have known better.”

 

“Ronan, _what?”_

 

Ronan exhaled. “You’re -- Uh. Well, I don’t exactly have as much experience as you seem to think I do.”

 

“Is it less than mine?” Adam asked.

 

“Definitely.” Ronan leaned his head into Adam’s chest. “Ah, fuck it. Adam, you’re literally it. You’re my entire experience.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“I’ve never been with anybody but you,” Ronan clarified. “God, this is embarrassing. You have been everything from my first kiss to my first - well, you know.”

 

Adam was having a hard time wrapping his head around Ronan’s words. _What?_ _What on earth?_ Ronan was still rubbing his thumb against his side, which was absurdly distracting. It also reminded him, once more, how Ronan seemed to know exactly where to touch Adam, which led him to--

 

“I don’t understand,” Adam blurted. “But you’re so _good_ at it.”

 

Ronan lifted his head from Adam’s chest with one eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”

 

“I just-- I’m sorry, you are _too fucking good_ at it. At _everything._ There is _no way_ you don’t have a ton of experience!” Adam shook his head at Ronan’s grin. “That’s just not possible.”

 

“Well, I watch a lot of porn…?” He got a punch to his arm for that. “Ow! Fuck. I don’t know what you want me to say! The past ten years have been… _busy._ I haven’t had much time to date, because of this fucking job, and I don’t know. Every time I thought about wanting to, you tended to just...appear.”

 

Adam’s head was spinning. “So all this time… Every time we were together...“

 

“Is this going to be a problem for you?” Ronan asked. There was worry in his voice, it _almost_ made Adam want to hold him close. Except…

 

God.

 

_All this time…_

 

“I’m such a dick,” Adam muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “This entire time I thought you were this sex-fiend-playboy, and in reality… Oh God. Am _I_ the sex-fiend?”

 

“Sometimes it feels like that,” Ronan muttered, which caused Adam to groan and turn away in embarrassment. Ronan laughed at this, tugged Adam back by the wrist, and said, “Not that I was complaining.”

 

“Then how come we haven’t had sex?” Adam asked. He regretted it immediately, especially when he saw the smile that slithered onto Ronan’s face. “I mean, I don’t want you to feel pressured. It’s fine if you don’t want to! But since we already have…”

 

Ronan shrugged, and for the first time - probably _ever_ \- Adam noticed a faint flush creep onto his cheeks. “I don’t know. Before, it was just a fling, and it happened so rarely. But I didn’t want to just have a fling anymore…”

 

“Oh.” Adam wasn’t sure what to think of that. He’d been keeping Ronan at arm’s length for so long, because he didn’t want to be used, but knowing what he did _now…_

 

Who _was_ Ronan, really? He clearly wasn’t the playboy, asshole that Adam thought he was. (Well, he might still be an asshole.) Apparently Ronan Lynch was some convoluted combination of selflessness, arrogance, affection, and adventure. Not to mention, he was apparently a natural in bed.

 

Which was… kind of the perfect guy.

 

It was really unfair.

 

“What are you thinking?” Ronan asked.

 

“I don’t really know.” Adam turned to look at Ronan, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the boy in his presence. He kept looking at his scrubs and remembering who Ronan was. “So, I mean, have you even _kissed_ anybody else?”

 

“Well, when Dorris drinks, she gets a bit handsy. But otherwise…” He winced. “Is that sad?”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Ronan didn’t look very convinced at his words, so taking a chance, Adam leaned down to kiss him. As he did it, Adam tried to be critical of the kiss. Tried to find some sort of sign that Roan needed more practice, that he wasn’t an automatic pro at this, but, _no._

 

It was still good, even a slow kiss like that.

 

“We can still hang out, if you want,” Ronan said. “I can slip out. Harold won’t remember tomorrow.”

 

“Well, we could, but…”

 

“What?”

 

“I sort of came down here to seduce you, which seems kind of inappropriate now...”

 

“You have a one track mind,” Ronan said. Despite the jest, he ran his hands down the back of Adam’s thighs and tugged him closer. “It’s getting late, though. You probably have to head back to DC soon, if you don’t want to be out too late.”

  
There was a clock in the room that read it was almost eight. Fuck. He would need to leave soon. DC was at least two hours away, and he had to be at work so early. Still, the way Ronan’s hands felt on him was a very distinct reminder of what Adam did _not_ get from this visit.

 

“You can walk me out,” Adam said with a sigh. He backed away from Ronan, knowing it would be easier to leave if they weren’t touching, and headed to the door.

 

“Before you go--” he could feel Ronan’s presence behind him, and sure enough, he felt Ronan’s fingertips skid across his lower back. “Can I see you again…?”

 

Adam turned around to face him. Ronan looked so nervous, standing there in front of him. It was still so crazy to Adam - how Ronan had quickly gone from being so charismatic to so innocent in the matter of minutes. (Well, maybe not _innocent._ Adam still had very vivid memories to prove that Ronan was not exactly a saint.)

 

“What about Friday?” Adam suggested. “I could come down again. We could hang out at your place. We wouldn’t even have to do anything.”

 

“You still want to? After all this?”

 

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re still good at it, right? It’s been awhile.”

 

At this, Ronan reached behind Adam’s back and found the doorknob. He clicked the lock shut, then leaned into Adam, pressing him close to the door.

 

“I can remind you, if you can spare a few minutes.” Ronan ran his hand down Adam’s side, trailing heat as it went. “If I recall, it doesn’t usually take much to get you off when I use my tongue…”

 

“Jesus Christ. You can’t talk like that.”

 

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

 

“I mean--” Adam swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

“Trust me, I want to.” Ronan pressed him into the door, kissing up his neck, across his jaw, and then his lips. He was really too good with his lips - and _fuck,_ when Ronan slipped his tongue across Adam’s lower lip, it was a distinct reminder that, yes, Ronan was good with his tongue, too.

 

“I don’t want to rush you,” Adam whispered.

 

Ronan’s fingers found the edge of Adam’s pants, and he began to unbutton them. “You’re not rushing me,” he whispered into Adam’s ear. Ronan pulled down the zipper. “I just wanted to make sure this wasn’t a fling. Is it going to be a fling, Adam?”

 

“No.” Adam didn’t intend for it to come out like a whisper, but his breath had suddenly left him. “I mean, I like you.”

 

Ronan pressed another kiss to Adam’s lips, and he could feel Ronan’s grin against him. “Good. Let me show how much I like you, too.”

 

And as Ronan fell to his knees, Adam let him do just that.

 

_Fuck._

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hopefully this last part didn't disappoint. Sorry if you were hoping for more smut, but I'm saving my energy for FTLS. 
> 
> Anyhoo, hoped you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Adam being a clueless and confused dolt was my favorite thing. What a dip, amiright?


End file.
